The Flame
by Allanna Stone
Summary: Pyro learns of a secret when Dakota battles him in the third movie.


**The Flame**

**I do not own X-Men.**

**SUMMERY:**

**Pyro learns of a secret when Dakota battles him in the third movie.**

"Why John?" sobbed Dakota, her knee length braids whipping in the wind. "Why?"

"For us," whispered Pyro, stepping forward to comfort his girlfriend. "For us," he repeated softly, lifting a hand to brush her cheek.

Dakota flinched back as though she had been slapped.

"John, I'm so sorry," she said, tears streaking her doll like face. She raised her head and began to sing, each note raising an octave every few seconds. Within a few moments, Pyro was on the ground, paralyzed.

Dakota stood over him, an angel in her tight leather uniform. Pyro could see that her breasts were straining to free themselves from the jacket that held them in place. Her long, lean legs were clothed by knee high boots and booty shorts. Pyro could still remember the first time when she walked into his bedroom dressed like that. She had just returned from a mission and was exhausted out of her mind.

But seeing Dakota's bare midriff, marked only by a belly button piercing, had turned him on.

Pyro had her in his bed again that night.

He didn't know what it was about her that drew him to her.

Maybe it was her hair. Black as a starless night, with a silk like texture. She always wore it in hundreds of tiny microbraids that showed off her curls. Curls that girls lusted for.

Maybe it was her eyes. She had once referred to them as being "dragon eyes"- eyes that changed color according to her feelings. Pyro had every color memorized. Green meant that she was calm. Red meant that she was enraged. Black meant that she was up to no good. Sapphire blue meant that she wanted him.

Maybe it was her voice. Dakota had a high voice, so when she spoke, she sounded like someone had stepped onto a mouse. But when she would sing… holy shit. Her voice was a part of her mutation. She could use her voice to tear open doors, to lift objects up, to even kill people. However, Dakota could also sing. She had informed Pyro that she had a seven octave range and could hit F sharp. Of course, he didn't know what that was.

Maybe it was her body. Dakota had swirls of spiraling blue and pink scales- not tattoos- that covered her body, ever now and then transforming into silver scales. Pyro had spent a rainy afternoon tracing the beauty of her skin with his finger tips, never growing tired of feeling the smoothness and uniqueness of her skin. He had never known a girl like Dakota.

Maybe it was her personality. Dakota was a bundle of energy, always wanting to do something in the mansion. She enjoyed hanging out with the guys more than girls; she was a good sport, always jumping in if the teams on the basketball court were uneven and to act as referee for foosball. She was easy going and it was hard to make her mad. But she wouldn't ever be mad for very long. Dakota was sassy and cocky too; always sure of herself and her descions.

Maybe it was her way with people. She had Logan wrapped around her finger, and he didn't even like most people. How she did it, Pyro didn't know. But she always radiated kindness and sweetness. Dakota would often times arrive late for class because she was comforting someone who was in distress

Maybe it was her smell. No matter if she had been in the mud with the guys or just came out of the shower, she always smelled of roses and chocolate. It was intoxicating… addicting. Pyro just couldn't ever get enough of it. He would pull her in close to him and deeply inhale her hair, sighing with content as her sweet scents would flood his senses.

"John," whispered Dakota, tears trickling down her face as she knelt next to her long time lover. Ever since she first came to the mansion over seven years ago, she had worn her heart on her sleeve. She wasn't afraid of what people thought of her. To be honest, she just didn't care.

Dakota had been an only child, living in the slums of New York with her parents, who were undercover detectives. One night, their cover was blown and they were shot.

And that was when Dakota discovered what her mutant power was.

When the chief of police told her what had happened to her only family, she screamed.

And she killed the chief of police.

From that moment on, Dakota had been on the run, scared for her life.

Because, really, what else could a twelve year old girl do?

When she was fourteen, Professor Xavier found her in a graveyard, keeping warm in an oak tree. At first, she refused to have anything to do with him. But when he told her that he was a mutant, like her, she began to trust him.

Pyro could still remember when Dakota first arrived at the mansion. She looked more like a seven year old instead of a twelve year old girl. She had a certain childlike innocence to her, which stayed with her as she traveled down the lane to adulthood. She was also undernourished and dirty, which Dr. Jean Grey quickly fixed with a long bubble bath and a meal. She would also sleep a lot during the daytime and prowl around the mansion at night.

Within a few weeks, Dakota was starting to look healthier. She also got her sleep patterns under control. Even if she did sleep for six hours at night, leaving her to wonder the mansion in her lace and silk nightgown.

When she was sixteen years old, Pyro fell in love with her.

It was a rainy day. Storm refused to do anything about the weather, saying that they needed the rain. Dakota was in her bedroom, singing a song from House of Flying Daggers. Pyro just so happened to be passing by the opened door. He heard her voice and stopped in his tracks. Her voice was so flawless, so beautiful.

Pyro did the unthinkable.

He entered her room.

Dakota didn't notice him at first. But then when she noticed him, she looked puzzled.

"Haven't I seen you around the mansion?" she asked.

And that was how their friendship/courtship began.

Whenever Pyro was around Dakota, he would feel like he had to protect his little china doll. Dakota would giggle and inform him that she could take out a small army all by herself, thank you very much.

Something else that Dakota did that John didn't allow anyone else to do was call him by his first name. If it were anyone else, then John would've flamed them on the spot. But with Dakota, whenever she would say his name, there was something that made him feel proud. Proud to call Dakota his girl. Dakota was also afraid of fire. But with Pyro's help, she overcame the fear and would sit close to him when he would play with his lighter. Pyro granted her the privilege of playing with his lighter, something that he didn't offer people.

"John," whispered Dakota, straddling him, her hands on either side of his face as she bent her head to whisper into his ear. "We're sorry."


End file.
